by Susan Lewis
How could she let them go through this?
What could she do to stop it?
Thinking of John and what it would cost him if the truth was never revealed, she felt her conscience flaring up with the realisation that she couldn’t back away from this. He’d already suffered too much. It would be cruel beyond measure to expect him to go through any more when, of them all, he was the one who’d suffered the most. So his name had to be cleared and his life properly returned to him. More than anything this was what she wanted to achieve, until she thought of Brian and Daphne and what the future held for them when what they had done became known.
For a while she cried so hard she could barely breathe. Never in her life had she faced such a harrowing dilemma, nor had she felt so lost for where to turn. It was as though everything in her world had changed shape, moved away from her, turned into something she could barely understand. Nothing was the same, nor would it ever be again, and right now she wasn’t even sure if she wanted it to be. She imagined all the objects around her witnessing her despair and storing it away to take down the years. How she longed to be as impervious, as detached and unfeeling, but right now she was anything but.
Seeing John driving by on his way to the barn, she toyed with the idea of going to speak to him, but what did she expect him to say? He’d already told her that he and Rose were willing to let her decide how they went forward with this. She knew very well, however, that neither of them was prepared for her to request that Brian and Daphne should get away with their crime. And she wouldn’t ask that, because she knew it was madness even to think it.
Realising John was heading her way, she quickly dried her eyes and felt relieved that he had no way of knowing what was going through her mind. She wondered how he was feeling this morning – thankful that his ordeal was finally coming to as good an end as he could ever have hoped for? Of course. Excited to have Rose and his children back in his life? How could he not be? Glad that the people who’d ruined his life were about to start paying for the terrible crime they’d committed?
‘Good morning,’ she said, trying to sound bright as he came into the kitchen. ‘Coffee’s under way.’
‘Just what I need,’ he responded, rubbing his hands together, and taking a carton of milk from the fridge he went in search of some mugs.
As she passed them to him their eyes met, and seeming to sense her inner turmoil he put the mugs down and took her hand.
‘I know today’s not going to be easy for you,’ he told her, ‘that’s why I’m here early, in case you’d like to talk.’
Feeling her heart swell with emotion, she tried hard not to break down again as she said, ‘It’s OK, I know what I have to do, and I promise, I’m going to do it …’
‘Ssh,’ he said gently, and easing her into a chair he sat down too and kept her hand loosely in his. There was so much tenderness and understanding in his eyes that she had to look away. ‘If life had done us the favour of making the Fishers ogres,’ he said, ‘then today would be far less difficult, but on the other hand it would mean that you’d grown up with people who’d hurt and abused you, which is something we thankfully don’t even have to think about any more.’
This was why, Lucy reminded herself, Brian and Daphne should pay for what they’d done, because no parent should ever have to suffer the torment of not knowing what was happening to their child.
‘I wish,’ he continued, ‘that I could take this burden from you, and believe me if I could, I would, but even if we do nothing today or next week, or next month, we both know that eventually the truth will out. There are probably already more people aware of it than we realise, and the longer we leave it the less chance you will have to be able to speak to Brian and Daphne before the police become involved. And I don’t think you want to miss that chance, do you?’
Lucy looked down as she shook her head. ‘I just can’t make myself see what good it’s going to do anyone for them to be locked away in the kind of place that’s going to scare them half to death.’
‘Lucy, listen to me,’ he said with gentle forcefulness. ‘What they did can never be condoned, you know that …’
‘Of course I do, but …’ They’re the only parents I’ve ever known, she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t because she knew it would hurt him. And it was hardly his fault that she was in the position she was now, it was solely due to Brian and Daphne, and she mustn’t let herself forget that. ‘Michael’s driving me down there later,’ she said, ‘then we’ll let him decide what needs to be done after I’ve spoken to them.’
John’s eyes remained steadily on hers as he said, ‘That sounds the wisest course.’
Swallowing hard, she stood up to find out whose car had just pulled into the drive. Frowning, she glanced at the clock. ‘It’s Michael,’ she said. ‘I thought we were meeting at his office.’
John shrugged as she turned to him. ‘Maybe he has some business to discuss,’ he suggested. ‘I should probably go and look at the day’s schedule. Simon’s offered to come and lend a hand again, but he has some calls and things he needs to sort out first.’
Pleased to think that a friendship, at least, might be developing between them, Lucy only had time to say, ‘Thanks for the chat,’ before Michael appeared at the door. He looked so grave that her heart immediately turned inside out. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘I have some news,’ he told her. ‘I think you’d better sit down. You too, John.’
Fighting back a surge of panic, Lucy glanced at John and sank stiffly into a chair.
‘This arrived at my office this morning,’ Michael went on, holding up an A4-sized envelope. ‘Inside there’s a letter for me, and another for you, Lucy.’
Lucy’s mind started to race.
‘After I received it I immediately contacted the police, but I’m … I’m afraid it was already too late.’
She suddenly couldn’t breathe.
‘I’m very sorry, Lucy,’ he continued quietly, ‘but your parents … Brian and Daphne … have taken their own lives.’
‘Oh my God, no,’ Lucy cried, clasping her hands to her mouth. ‘They can’t. Please. No, no.’
Stunned, John could only look on as Michael stepped forward to take her in his arms.
‘I should have gone straight there,’ she sobbed. ‘As soon as I knew they were back … Oh my God, this is my fault … I should have known …’
‘Ssh,’ Michael soothed, holding her tight.
‘I’m such a coward. I was afraid to face them, and now … Oh Mum, Dad,’ she gasped, falling to her knees as the devastation of their end hit her with all its terrible force. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I should have been there for you.’
A while later Lucy was lying on the bed staring at nothing, as her heart seemed to shatter over and over again. She didn’t yet know how, or where they’d ended it, she only knew that it was as if a part of her was still caught up with them, following them over the moors as they departed, enmeshed in their kindness, absorbed by their love. She was holding on as tightly as she could as though to keep them with her, needing to let them know that in spite of everything her feelings hadn’t changed, they were still the dearest, kindest people she’d ever known. It would be the same for Ben and Hanna when they found out, and she hoped with all her heart that Brian and Daphne realised what wonderful grandparents they’d been. They surely must have known as the children had so often been in touch with them to say goodnight, or hi, thinking of you, or simply how are you? Knowing it was Rose and John who should have been receiving those messages wasn’t making this loss any easier to bear, if anything it seemed to be taking something special from Brian and Daphne, who’d already lost so much.
Lucy tried to comfort herself by thinking of the disgrace and humiliation they’d been spared, and though she couldn’t help but feel glad of it, she was overcome with shame and anger with herself for not having gone to see them sooner. She’d known how terrified they would have been of faci
ng the law, of prison and most of all of being separated. She should have found a way to protect them, to redirect the course of fate so that they could at least have stayed together, but she hadn’t, so they’d done it for themselves. No one could tear them apart now, or force them to pay for their crime, or even ask them to say they were sorry. Perhaps they weren’t, because without her their lives would have been childless, empty – perhaps, to them, even worthless?
Remembering the letters Michael had brought with him was what, in the end, took her back downstairs. She guessed that the police would arrive soon, or perhaps they’d send for her, or speak to her on the phone. She had no idea what the procedure for something like this might be. She only knew that in the days ahead she would have to start making plans for a funeral, and the mere thought of it made her stop on the stairs as the shock of their loss hit her once more. They’d gone and she would never see them again. She pushed a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. She was now in a world where the two people who’d been at the centre of it for as long as she could remember were no longer there. Two people who’d given her everything of themselves, while depriving her of so much. Some might ask how it was possible to go on loving them after what they’d done; all she knew was that it was impossible not to.
And now it was too late to tell them that.
‘Are you OK?’ Michael asked, putting away his phone as she walked into the kitchen.
Aware of how she must look, she gave a lopsided sort of smile. ‘Where’s John?’ she asked.
‘In the office talking to Sarah. He’ll break the news to Rose and the others after.’
Nodding, Lucy pulled out a chair to sit down. The envelope was in the middle of the table.
As gently as he could, he said, ‘The police have been in touch. They need someone to go down there to identify the bodies.’
Lucy flinched at the word, and felt herself starting to panic again. Bodies? They couldn’t be bodies, they were her parents.
‘I can go if you’d rather not,’ he offered.
She shook her head. No matter how difficult it might be, she wasn’t going to let them down again. ‘Where are they?’ she asked quietly.
‘They might already have been moved, but if you’re asking where it happened, it was in the garage.’
She looked up, knowing, even before he told her, that they’d been found in the old Rover – the car they’d kept because she couldn’t bear to let it go. How was she going to live with herself after this? How could they have lived with what they were facing?
‘It wouldn’t have been possible in a newer car,’ he explained, not realising how painfully his words were chafing her guilt. ‘They aren’t made the same way these days.’
Realising they must have known that, Lucy covered her face with her hands. She wanted desperately to block out the image of them walking to the garage, setting everything up and then, perhaps, saying goodbye to one another before her mother put her head on her father’s shoulder. She couldn’t bear it. She just couldn’t.
‘The police need to see the letters,’ Michael told her softly.
She looked at the envelope and knew that once she started to read she’d be plunged into the most difficult goodbye of her life, and it really wasn’t where she wanted to go. However, there was no avoiding it. She had to make herself pick up the envelope and then face the fact that whatever they’d written, this would be the last time she’d ever hear from them.
Mum! Dad! Come back, please, please come back!
Picking up the envelope, she said, ‘If you don’t mind I’m going to take it into the sitting room.’
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I’ll wait here and if you need me …’
Swallowing hard, she nodded and got to her feet. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not sure what I’d do …’
‘You don’t have to think about it,’ he came in gently.
As she walked away Lucy wondered if she should call Joe, but then the thought was gone and moments later she was curling into a corner of the sofa with a letter, written in Daphne’s familiar hand, trembling slightly in her own.
Dearest Lucy
This is a letter Dad and I have long feared we might one day have to write, but now that day has come we find ourselves approaching our task with more relief than we might have expected.
Having you in our lives, my dearest girl, has brought us more joy than any parent could ever wish for, and coming to us, as you did, at a time of such darkness we hadn’t imagined ourselves ever knowing joy again. After God called our own little Lucy to His side He left us with too much emptiness to fill, too much despair to overcome. There could be no more children for us, we knew that, and it might have been easier to bear had we not had the brief and beautiful experience of our dear little girl. When she went our hearts, our hopes and dreams went with her. We had lost our sense of purpose; there was no longer a reason to continue, nothing to keep us here. God had forsaken us, and the world was a place we no longer wanted to be in. So it wasn’t a hard decision for us to take, to escape the pain and cruelty of our existence.
Lucy had been gone for a little over three months by the time we started to act on our plans. Acquiring enough sleeping pills to ensure our departure was going to take time, and it was during this period that we were offered a position with the Landmark Trust. Though we had no intention of taking it up, and had even written a letter to thank them for considering us, before we could send it God intervened in the most unexpected and magnificent way. This was when He brought us the most beautiful little girl in the world. Since losing our own dear child we had prayed with all our hearts for a miracle that would bring her back to us, and that day, God in His infinite wisdom and mercy decided to answer our prayers.
That morning I had been to see a doctor in Wimbledon to obtain more pills, and Brian was on his way to meet me so we could journey back into London together. On his conscience, as it had been for some time, was the fact that we had still not registered our Lucy’s death. I’m sure if we’d been prompted we would have forced ourselves to do it, but we never received a communication from the authorities, and because we so dreaded that awful final act of letting go we were still struggling to make ourselves face it. Then, out of the blue, you were brought to us in the simplest and most gloriously unexpected way.
At first, when you were left on the train, Brian had every intention of getting off with you at the next stop, but then it occurred to him that if he did he could be refusing a gift from God. So he kept you with him to the end of the line where I was waiting, and when I saw you looking so tiny and afraid and Brian explained what had happened, I understood too that God had decided to smile on us again. Your mother had three children and we had none. She couldn’t cope and we could. She didn’t need you and we did. So we decided that unless we saw your mother waiting at Southfields station on our return we would continue into London with you curled up on my lap, perfectly safe and already loved. This is what happened, because there was no sign of your mother as our train passed through, and when we got you home I continued to hold and comfort you while Brian went out to buy you clothes and delicious things to eat.
From that day on we deliberately stopped watching the news or buying papers in order to avoid the furore, and nor did we take you out. We knew your picture would be everywhere and we didn’t want to run the risk of you being taken away from us when we felt in our hearts that you were where you belonged. Then we left for Lundy where nobody knew us and so accepted us as the proud and happy parents we were again.
It wasn’t until long after John Mckenzie – your father – was sent to prison that we learned of his fate. I read about it one morning in an old magazine I found in an antiques shop. It came as a terrible shock, but by then you were seven years old and we loved you so much that we couldn’t even think about giving you up. We reminded ourselves that God was in charge of all our destinies, and that He had brought you to us in a way that had made it abundantly clear He meant you for us. Wha
tever life journey your birth parents were on was between them and God, and nothing to do with us. We had no idea then what had happened to your mother, the article didn’t mention her, so as far as we knew your parents were still married and she was bringing up her other children while waiting for their father to come home.
Of course we know the truth now, that your parents had divorced and your mother remarried, but it was many years before we were to learn that. It never even occurred to us when we moved to Cromstone that Douglas Bancroft’s wife had once been the Rose who was married to John Mckenzie. Maybe, if we’d met her, we’d have recognised her, but I think it is doubtful as we had always been so careful to steer clear of the publicity surrounding our blessing.
It would appear now that God, in His divine wisdom, has finally chosen to remove you from our safe keeping and reunite you with the family He took you from at the beginning. It isn’t our right to question why, or to try to defy Him. We must accept that our time with you has reached an end and we must thank Him with all our hearts for the years of happiness you have brought us.
I hope, Lucy my dearest, that you will not judge us too harshly and that you will try to understand why we believed it was God’s will for you to stay with us. We have loved you and cared for you as if you were our own, and this is how we have always thought of you. Your happiness has always meant everything to us. I hope you know that – I think you do. Over the years we have never allowed ourselves to talk about or even think of your natural parents, but now they are constantly on our minds, and of course on our conscience. We will not try to ask for their forgiveness, because we feel sure it’s not something they’d want to consider. We will simply ask you to extend our sympathy for all they have suffered, and it is our sincere hope that from now on God will smile on them the way He has on us for so many years.
You are a beautiful woman, Lucy, in every way, and you have been the most wonderful daughter any parent could ever wish for. Ben and Hanna have brought even more joy to our lives than we ever dared dream of, and whatever the future might hold for you and Joe we want him to know that he’s been a very kind and considerate son-in-law to us.
